Solstice
by Asimi
Summary: Japan, 1867. The rule of the shogunate has ended, leaving Japan in a state of social and political confusion. Amidst fierce confrontation between the West and Japan, a sinister plot unfolds that could leave the country, and its people, in ruin. SasuSaku.
1. Chapter 1

**Solstice, Chapter One**

_sol - stice (sohl-stis) n.  
2. a furthest or culminating point; a turning point._

* * *

The station was filled with the stench of fish and horse manure, the heavy clop of hooves and the creak of rolling wheels echoing around the street as vendors shouted obscene prices from their stands.

Endless amounts of people poured out of horse-drawn carriages and merged with the crowds in this place, a barely tangible spring breeze drifting across sweaty faces the only relief from the oppressive heat generated by the tightly packed bodies; groups that boarded for departure were quickly replaced by a new party, vendors that pulled their services for the day replaced by vivacious newcomers.

Towards the outskirts of the endless crowd stood Naruto, a lone blonde head in a sea of brunette.

He was only half-Japanese himself, so it was natural that he would jump at the opportunity to receive the Asian-American that was to become his lord's English tutor.

Aside from Ino, Naruto knew virtually no one with a Western parent—most of the people here were either one or the other; but this man was coming from America, so it was likely that they could teach him something about his heritage.

Or rather, he was going to _make_ them teach him something.

Rocking on the balls of his feet, he sighed for the umpteenth time that afternoon, wiping the perspiration from his brow.

One thing he hadn't anticipated when he volunteered, however, was how long carriages took to get from the opposite side of the country to Edo.

Snorting softly, he watched hopefully as another team of horses came into view, only to curse in disappointment as they continued trotting straight through the station. He had never been a very patient person, but he was beginning to wonder if this mystery man from America would ever arrive. It simply wouldn't do if they had changed their mind and weren't going to make the journey to Japan after all.

With the recent and somewhat unexpected onslaught of Westerners, Japan was struggling to keep up. The days of the shogunate were over, and now was the time to either accept it and change with the times or forever be lost in history. His master was one of a handful that had decided to learn English—if only as a precaution. America was beginning to take a firmer hold on Japan's resources by the day, and more and more often it was necessary to communicate with the Western people. Never had any of the shogun (or, ex-shogun, as it were) in Japan liked to depend on a person other than themselves for communication, and the need to summon a translator was viewed by many as a substantial weakness—after all, how can you be certain that your speaker is telling you the correct things?

For this reason alone, his lord had grimly sent for another half-Japanese like Naruto, despite the blonde's protests that he knew the language perfectly well. To this, Naruto was greeted with a rare, fleeting laugh and a reply that "if you speak English like you speak our native tongue, that's hardly what I'd consider _perfectly well_."

The blonde sighed, yawning widely, scratching the nape of his neck as a small carriage—room only for one, he supposed—pulled to a stop directly before him, the coachman rapping on the door for the sake of politeness as he took the trunks and set them neatly on the cobbles. There was a long moment of stillness before a delicate, pale hand drew the window curtain aside to give a partial view of a most unusual woman.

Her face was half-obscured by curtain and the grimy window, but Naruto managed to catch the flash of a smile before she pushed the door open herself, staring out at the station with a look of awe.

Normally, he would have laughed at anyone looking at this dirty section of Edo like that.

But this woman…she stopped him in his tracks.

Her eyes were a deep and wise shade of green, bright and clear, and she was wearing a bizarre sky blue dress coated with barely discernible vine-like patterns, the trim an eye-catching cream lace. The material hugged her waist and showed off a fair amount of cleavage, spreading like an elongated mushroom top at her hips.

If her wardrobe did not set her out of place in a country where women were seen in nothing but conservative kimono and yukata, then certainly her hair would.

It was…pink; nothing garish and bright, but a soft shade, similar to the blooms of a cherry blossom tree.

Staring at this intriguing woman, Naruto did the only logical thing that came to mind and extended his arm to her, offering her a strong, tanned hand. Instantly, her emerald irises were focused only on him, a cursory soft smile still present on her lips but mistrust evident in the stiff way she held her neck and the hard glint in her eyes.

He offered her a genuine smile.

"May I assist you?" he asked her in English, because this lady was obviously not from Japan. Though, looking at her as she set her small hand in his and stepped out of the coach, her eyes were unmistakably almond in shape and slightly slanted, her bone structure and short stature hinting at Japanese lineage.

She looked at him for a long moment with pools of fathomless jade before smiling a lady's smile, comprehension drifting across her eyes.

"Are you Uzumaki-san?" she asked him in Japanese, surprising him. He had not expected her to know their language.

Actually, he hadn't expected her to know his name, either.

But then, her knowing his name would mean that she knew who he was, which would mean that _she_ was the English tutor his lord had sent for.

He had been expecting a man, someone old and all business and—and not _this_!

"You're—I mean, are you the…_you're_ the one he sent for?"

She smirked at him, something else unexpected.

"Were you anticipating something…different?" she asked, gesturing vaguely at herself. He opened and closed his mouth several times, looking every bit a fish out of water, before managing to find any words at all.

"Well, I mean…yes."

She frowned slightly, a gentle tip of the lips, before crossing her arms firmly beneath her breasts.

Naruto tried _really_ hard not to glance down at the added cleavage she had exposed with the action.

"You were expecting a man," she deadpanned, her pitch indicating a question even though the manner in which the words dropped from her lips was decidedly un-question-like.

"Y-Yes," he managed.

"Someone old."

"Yes."

"Perhaps with some sort of handicap."

"Yes."

"Because you believe a young woman is not suited for work?"

"Ye—I mean, no! No, not at all, it's just—you—you're not…"

She raised a fine pink brow at him.

"I suspect," she said, her tone clipped, "that your master is awaiting our arrival."

He looked at her incredulously. This woman was…well, not at all what he would expect from a person coming to tutor an ex-shogun. She was beautiful, stubborn, and, beneath all of her skirts and hair, not a lady at all.

He…liked her.

Naruto nodded at her, smiling to himself as he picked up her luggage.

They would certainly have their hands full.

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"Sorry about…earlier."

They were nearly at the estate—travel through this poor section of Edo was fast, seeing as there were never any carriages about.

No one could afford them, here.

The woman, Haruno Sakura, she had told him her name was, looked away from the window and raised a brow at him, silently urging him to continue.

"I was just surprised, that's all," Naruto said sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck again. She smiled softly as she looked back out at the passing villages.

"I believe you," she said after a pause. "I think…you're a good person, Naruto-san."

He flushed at her words, fiddling with his hands as he tried to figure out what to say.

Before he got the proper chance to think of anything, however, the coach lurched to a halt. Sakura peered out her tiny window, but all she could see were terraces of green carved into the hillside, workers toiling in the fields of tall grass.

Naruto smiled to himself—her window was on the wrong side of the carriage.

"Just a moment, Haruno-san," he said politely, slipping out the door and walking around to hers. He opened it, offering her his hand again as one of the servants here took the luggage from the coachman. Her feet touched the ground and Naruto shut the door, waiting patiently as the horses pulled their load past them, revealing his lord's estate.

Eagerly, the blonde watched her surprised face light up with genuine awe—not for the building's grandeur and size (though perhaps that, as well), but for its stunning beauty.

That was another thing that intrigued him about this woman.

Though her eyes had been glued to the outside world the entire way here (as most people's would be), she was not looking for those with high status or ogling the villagers because of their strange appearance. She was drinking everything in, all of the newness, all of the culture—she appreciated what so many others did not, and it fascinated him. Not many women her age—Western or Japanese—would ever have the capacity to so thoroughly_ enjoy_ the world around them.

He smiled, gesturing up the long path to the front.

"Shall we?"

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It was…beautiful.

Naruto had called it an estate…but it looked every inch a traditional Japanese castle, the kind her father had shown her in books when she was small. He had brought several kimono to America for her when he finally moved there from Japan to live with Sakura and her mother, and she had spent her days as a child dressed in the silken robes, pretending to be a lovely princess in those wondrous castles.

Never had she thought that she would actually be living in one, even if it were for only a year.

Sakura knew she was probably gaping like an idiot, but she found it quite difficult to care while surrounded by such a magnificent example of Japanese architecture. Naruto smiled knowingly at her as they reached what she presumed to be the front door of the building, stopping before it as he slipped out of his shoes; he waited for her to do the same, and, eager to see the inside, she hastily removed her small white flats and set them beside his sandals.

She held her breath as he grasped the shoji screen and slid it aside, only to have the air leave her in a soft _woosh_ as she took in the low, elegant furniture and delicate tatami mats that spread across the floor. Everything inside was light and airy, filled with open space and graceful lines. The screen directly across from them was wide open, and she could see a lovely bamboo fountain surrounded by strange fern-like plants. She imagined that beyond it was a remarkable garden, the delectable breeze drifting through the room filling her with a sense of mild serenity despite her excitement.

Her moment of reverence was ruined, however, when the more sensible part of her brain reminded her that she was, in fact, a lady, and that this was a very important opportunity for her.

She took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders and clasping her hands demurely before her as she stepped inside and turned to face the blonde.

"What now?"

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Uchiha Sasuke stood on the wooden porch overlooking the garden of his estate, wondering vaguely why his servants even bothered to keep it up. It wasn't as if he cared for the flowers that grew here, or the greenness of the grass.

Perhaps they thought it pleased him, to have this one, gigantic reminder of his mother.

Honestly, he'd rather see it burn.

He sighed deeply, suddenly quite weary of everything. The life of an ex-shogun was hardly what he'd call magnificent—but then, life for him never had been. He had little time for anything these days, what with the Americans constantly banging on Japan's door. Everything was negotiation, with Westerners, with the Japanese, with other former members of the shogunate…he was sick of it.

People from the Western world wanted nothing more than their trading goods, despite their efforts at convincing them it was for their own good that they were ending Japan's isolated ways. It was a load of bullshit fed to the Japanese people on a silver spoon, but nothing could be done—not with American guns always pointed at their backs.

They had come on their ships with cannons raised, prepared to use any means necessary to make the Emperor cooperate. With war on his doorstep, he was left with little choice but to schedule a meeting with American ambassadors; the papers he signed were the beginning of an end for Japan—or, at least, the Japan Sasuke knew.

Sighing again, Sasuke attempted to clear his head. Footsteps sounded from behind him, and he knew from their slowness and the awkward but quiet way she dropped to her knees and bowed that it was Hinata.

"Uchiha-sama, t-the tutor has arrived."

She spoke with quiet grace, the same way she moved throughout this place.

Vaguely, he wondered if it had been a mistake to ask them to come at all. Perhaps he would start a rebellion with the rest of the shogunate, or maybe the Americans would realize it was a waste of their time to bother with a small group of islands like Japan.

The girl behind him shifted slightly, discomfited by his silence.

"Take to them to my office. Instruct them to wait for me there."

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Sakura's brow unconsciously furrowed as she listened to Naruto having a rather fast exchange with a blonde girl that had abruptly rounded the corner and found them.

From what little Sakura could gather from the conversation, her name was Ino; she was wearing a simple green yukata—something that seemed radically out of place in accompaniment with her pale blonde hair and blue-green eyes.

Naruto, she could tell, was part Japanese. This woman clearly was not, however, and she wondered vaguely how she had come to be of service to the notoriously Western-wary shogun.

Naruto let out a rather indignant cry before shaking his head in disbelief at something that had been said—the two seemed to be arguing, and the woman was gesturing wildly. Sakura caught her own name somewhere in the mass of quick-paced syllables, and Uchiha-sama's as well.

Regardless, she could feel a massive headache coming on from trying to decipher the rapid speech.

Her knowledge of the Japanese language was mediocre, but passable. She could understand almost everything if spoken to directly, and her accent was spot-on. However, it simply took her brain too long to translate complete sentences for her to pick up anything of what the two blondes were saying.

The fact that they probably knew and were counting on this was beginning to irritate her, as the girl's cerulean eyes kept flashing over in her direction.

Inwardly, Sakura shook her head of the disheveled phrases she had been trying to decipher. Outwardly, she pursed her lips and crossed her arms—something she had gotten in the habit of doing since she was small—and waited for them to finish.

With a rather unladylike snort, the fair-haired woman turned to Sakura, stepping in front of Naruto and dropping to her knees, bowing with her forehead nearly touching the floor and fingertips pressed together before her.

"It's lovely to make your acquaintance, Lady Sakura," she said in forcibly polite English, rising far too quickly for the bow to be sincere. Sakura had known that the woman was completely American, but was still taken aback by the sudden language switch.

The girl searched Sakura's face, her own hard and unsmiling.

"My name is Ino."

Sakura narrowed her eyes at the woman before her, hardly believing her cordial tone. The least she could do was _try_ to smile…even Sakura knew how to feign sincerity when the occasion demanded.

"I had gathered," Sakura returned in Japanese—she wasn't about to pretend if this girl wasn't.

Ino frowned, opening her mouth to say something, but she was cut off by a quiet, feminine voice drifting in from the door that led to the gardens.

"I-Ino-san, he requests that they w-wait in his office."

Naruto turned towards the voice, beaming. Sakura searched the open doorway, but found only a small hand gently grasping the side of the screen from outside, as if afraid she might break it if she held any tighter.

"Thanks, Hinata-chan!" called the blonde man.

Sakura didn't miss the way the hand gripped the frame more tightly at his voice, and wondered why whoever it was refrained from coming in. Were they intimidated by Ino, or herself? Perhaps it was some absurd Japanese custom to wait outside until invited.

Sakura was about to open her mouth to tell whomever it was to come in, but she didn't get the chance.

"Follow me," said Ino curtly, back to Japanese.

Sakura cast a last glance back at the hand before doing as she was told and following the woman down the hall.

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Ino shut the screen behind them with a snap, and Sakura took in the room she and Naruto had been led to.

Bookshelves lined the walls on either side of them, filled with scrolls. At the far end of the room was a low table, some cushions spread around it as seating. Beyond the table was another open door to the gardens, a small pond and a cherry blossom tree in sight this time. Faintly, she could still hear the bamboo fountain's hollow, rhythmic clacking.

Staring at the neat shelves and the perfectly placed cushions, Sakura couldn't help but think that whatever kind of person this Uchiha Sasuke was, he was very organized.

Silence filled the room, nothing but the soft sounds of nature drifting in through the open door. It was getting slightly uncomfortable, and she racked her brains for something—anything—to chat about.

Thinking back to the mysterious hand, Sakura turned slightly to Naruto.

"Who was she?" she asked softly, afraid to disturb the quiet of the room.

He looked at her oddly.

"Who was who, Haruno-san?"

"Please, Naruto, you don't have to be so formal," she said with a smile. "That hand on the screen…why wouldn't they come in?"

Naruto's expression visibly shifted to something indiscernible.

"Sakura-chan, then," he said, with a stiff sort of cheer. "That was Hinata-chan…she's another servant here, like Ino."

Sakura nodded.

"Is it some sort of odd custom I don't know about, then? Is that why she didn't come in?"

Frowning, Naruto looked outside absently.

"Hinata-chan doesn't like people to see her."

"Why not?" asked Sakura, brows furrowed.

Naruto turned back to her, searching her face and seeming to contemplate over whether or not he should say anything at all. She wondered what sort of relationship he had with the girl, for him to take this much care in revealing her secrets.

Then again, Naruto just seemed to care about people in general…it was a good quality, not to mention rare.

He continued to look right through her, and just when Sakura was beginning to think he wasn't going to say much of anything, he began to talk.

"She was from a powerful clan, once—the Hyuuga," here he paused, searching her face momentarily before turning to look outside and continuing. "Their house is notorious for excellent fighters…even the women can handle a sword. Hinata-chan was…different, though. She was clumsy, and she couldn't fight like the rest of the girls her age; a lot of them picked on her, and eventually her father got so angry that he even tried teaching her himself." He stopped for a moment, taking a deep breath through his nose before wrinkling it slightly, lip curling with distaste. "Regardless, when she was seven, her family disowned her. She came here, was given work, and…that's it—she's been here ever since."

Naruto turned his cobalt irises back to her, and almost immediately Sakura's overlarge heart broke.

To have your own family boot you from their household…how terrible the girl must have felt. It had been hard enough for Sakura to be accepted in school, with her pink hair and strange, slanted eyes—but to come home and know that no one in your family was there to comfort you…

What an awful existence.

"Naruto," she said softly, "why did they disown her?"

He looked her in the eye again, a small frown on his face.

"She's—"

"Naruto," interrupted an unfamiliar voice, rich and masculine, "where is the tutor?"

Both heads turned towards the newcomer, standing in the doorway with one hand tucked casually near the belt of his robes. Naruto immediately stood taller, squaring himself to the man in the entrance to the gardens and pulling his chin up before clicking his tongue softly at the new man's ignorance.

Sakura, however, find herself incapable of doing much but staring.

This man was…beautiful. There was simply no other word for it.

From his patrician features and raven hair to the firm set of his jaw and the confident way he stood before them, he was perfect. Everything about him screamed of good looks, power and grace.

Sakura wondered, vaguely, if he had stolen his face from a god.

"This _is_ the tutor, Sasuke," said Naruto from her right. Shaking herself mentally, Sakura clasped her hands delicately before her and bowed slightly at the waist, making sure to smile charmingly at him as she straightened.

His face remained blank and impassive as he looked her over, raising an eyebrow. He turned back to Naruto.

"A woman?"

Sakura puffed up immediately, narrowing her eyes at the man and taking a step forward.

Ever since she was young, her father had taught her never to let anyone talk down to her just because she was a girl. She had fought tooth and nail in America to be seen as something other than a woman, someone to be stepped upon and used. Her father had warned her that in Japan, things were much worse—Sakura had been prepared to defend herself from the minute she stepped out of that carriage in Edo.

The fact that this man was her employer, an ex-shogun, very powerful and drop dead _gorgeous_ wasn't about to deter her.

"You were expecting a man," she said—rather forcefully—in her very best Japanese.

He turned those achingly beautiful eyes back to her, looking her over again before returning his piercing gaze to her face.

"At the very least, someone more…capable."

Sakura downright _snarled_.

To_ hell_ with manners.

"Look here," she practically seethed, "I'm more _capable_ than any other man you could have asked to come here, and far more competent. Certainly more competent than _you_, you pig-headed, chauvinistic son of a—"

A large, tanned hand promptly slapped itself over her mouth, effectively cutting off the remainder of her speech.

"Sasuke," said Naruto, smiling at the man across from him, "meet Haruno Sakura."

**

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**

GUESS WHO'S BACK?!

**...you guys are too good at this guessing business, I swear. Takes all the fun out of it. ANYWAY! Here it is, the first chapter of the new fic I've been promising, and now I'm sitting here shaking in my (proverbial) boots because this writing style is so radically different from anything I've ever written in my life. There isn't really a lot for me to say, except that I'm making no promises with my updates. I've been super busy lately, but luckily my summer vacation is coming up so I can stark craking out some (hopefully really freaking good) stuff soon. :D**

**Thanks for all the love and support, everyone!**

**REVIEWS ARE LOVE. Send me some lovin'!**

**-Dani**


	2. Chapter 2

**Solstice, Chapter Two**

* * *

It was Ino that escorted her to her chambers.

"This is your room—your luggage is over there," began the blonde, crossing her arms and sounding every bit like she was reading out of a mental instruction book. Inwardly, Sakura snorted—after all, she probably was. "You have free roam of this place, but Uchiha-san requests that you do not open any of the closed doors. If you want to leave for any reason, you are to have an escort."

Sakura frowned.

"Why?" she asked, before she could quite help it. She was perfectly capable of taking care of herself…just so long as she didn't get lost.

"Not many people like Westerners around here, Sakura-san," Ino smirked. "Especially not ones with such large foreheads."

Sakura gaped at the blonde, making a small, indignant noise in the back of her throat. What had she done to deserve such treatment? She'd hardly said three words to this woman!

Before she could properly retaliate, however, (or even regain her composure) Ino turned and marched right out the door, grabbing the screen and beginning to slide it shut. When it was halfway closed, she seemed to remember something important as she pushed it back open, fair head popping in once more.

"It is custom for the master of a house to dine with a new guest. Someone will be sent to inform you when dinner is served."

The shoji screen shut with a snap.

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"You should be nicer to her, teme."

Sasuke dipped his brush into the ink dish and continued writing.

"Why is that?" he asked rather nonchalantly, making Naruto's face twitch in agitation. Sometimes, Sasuke could really be an ignorant piece of shit.

"Because she came all the way from _America_," Naruto growled, "just to help _you_, someone she doesn't even know." Here, Naruto paused. "Actually, she probably wouldn't have come if she knew what an ass you were. I take it you failed to mention that in your letters?"

"And she failed to mention that she was a woman."

The blonde rolled his eyes, feeling a dull throb beginning to form near his left temple. Scratch that—he was _always_ an ignorant piece of shit.

"Obviously you must have thought something of her, teme, or you wouldn't have asked her to come."

Naruto, for all his goofy and seemingly ignorant attitude, did not miss the way Sasuke paused slightly in his writing.

"At least give her a chance," said Naruto, softly. "She's a good person, Sasuke."

The man in question sighed heavily, setting his brush down and leaning on his elbows thoughtfully, fingers laced before his mouth. Naruto all but held his breath, stiffening slightly in anticipation. It would be fun, to have Sakura around for a while, and he was really hoping Sasuke wouldn't just send her back. It had been a long time since a woman had resided in this house—especially one with so much personality. Her demeanor was so refreshing from all the pompous assholes that usually resided in this place.

Besides, they all needed a little cheer, these days.

"I'll give her two weeks," Sasuke finally responded, taking up his brush once more. "If she doesn't impress me, she will return home."

Naruto smiled in triumph.

"You won't regret it, Sasuke-teme."

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Sakura sighed as she sat on the floor before the tall mirror in the corner of her room, brushing her long pink hair. It would be close to dinnertime soon, and though Sakura longed to change out of her travel dress she couldn't possibly slip into something more formal without assistance.

Unfortunately, there had been no one in the hall for some time—Sakura had even cracked the screen an inch or so in order to listen.

It was almost disturbing, how quiet this place was. Back home, the halls were practically bustling with people no matter what the occasion, be it family or her father's American business partners. There had rarely been a moment of quiet in the Haruno household, and she had grown up used to casual banter and lots of easy conversation.

This place, however…despite its beauty and elegance, Sakura had known from the moment she set foot inside that there were very few people that lived in Uchiha-sama's estate.

Setting her comb down and standing, Sakura smoothed her skirts and wondered idly why that was.

She smirked softly. Maybe people were put off by his attitude.

Suddenly, a soft tapping came from the frame of the shoji screen, causing Sakura to jump.

She hadn't even heard anyone coming down the hall.

Quickly regaining her composure, Sakura pasted on her friendliest smile.

"Come in!" she called.

Slowly, the screen slid aside to reveal a rather petite woman with long, dark hair sitting in the hallway. She was dressed in a midnight blue yukata that Sakura thought fit her quite nicely, the belt holding it together a complimentary faded black.

Hair sliding forward to cover her face as she bowed most formally to Sakura, the girl whispered a quiet greeting before straightening herself once more, hand sliding up the length of the screen's frame as she stood.

She didn't let go, even once she had completely righted herself.

The gently grasping hand on the screen to the gardens…

"Ah!" cried Sakura, eyes widening in surprise. "You're the one from earlier!" Proud of her observations, Sakura's smile cracked into a full-fledged grin. "Hinata, was it?"

The girl's shoulders tensed minutely, feet shuffling awkwardly as her free hand fiddled with her belt.

Sakura had been expecting a smile in return, and some form of eye contact, but the woman's attention remained resolutely on the floor.

Frowning, she wondered whether she had offended the girl.

"I'm sorry," said the pink-haired woman sincerely, "I didn't mean to upset you. If I was incorrect about your identity, then—"

"N-no," said the girl softly, "you were r-right."

Listening to Hinata's voice and remembering the story Naruto told her, Sakura faintly wondered what her life must be like. The girl went through every day knowing that her family hadn't wanted her, that she had once been of noble descent and was now nothing more than a servant-girl. She had grown up with that knowledge since she was _seven_.

Sakura frowned sadly at the broken creature before her, all motherly sympathy and genuine care.

"Please," she said, taking a step towards the brunette, "won't you look at me, Hinata-chan?"

The hand holding the screen now clutched it so tightly that the knuckles turned white, every bone in the girl's body going temporarily stiff for the slightest of moments before she sighed deeply. There was a pause as Hinata's hand gradually loosened its hold to a gentle grasp once more, and at last she raised her head to look somewhere over Sakura's right shoulder.

"I a-apologize sincerely, Sakura-san," she whispered, every line of her face composed of the shame she had been forced to bear since childhood. Sakura sucked in a harsh breath through her teeth. "But it w-wouldn't much matter if I d-did look at you."

Her eyes were white.

Hinata was blind.

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"Honestly, Naruto, you should have just left her at the station!"

The man in question sighed deeply, massaging his temple where a migraine was now gaining steady strength. Minutes after she had brought Sakura to her rooms, the angry woman had come charging towards him down the stairs, grabbing his collar and dragging him out into the courtyard between the gates and the estate. The watchman standing resolutely before the large arc of the open entryway was sneaking glances over his shoulder, his eavesdropping blatant despite his best efforts at being discreet.

"Ino," he began, "I couldn't just _leave_ her th—"

"Yes!" screeched the woman, causing Naruto to wince. "You most certainly could have, Naruto! She can barely deal with my insults, so how the hell do you expect her to put up with his bullshit? You _knew_ from the moment you led her inside exactly what he would think."

Naruto crossed his arms, looking at Ino with a frown on his face.

"She's tougher than she looks."

Ino let out an angry cry, raking her fingers through her long blonde hair in frustration.

"You don't get it, Naruto," she seethed. "He's your best friend, I know, but there is no way he's going to let her stay here. You, of _all_ people, should know that."

"He said he'd give her two weeks," argued Naruto. "That has to count for something!"

"Oh!" cried Ino, sharply sarcastic. "Well shit, Naruto, that's fantastic. Now she'll get her hopes up and we can send her home crying."

Naruto growled.

"Ino, why can't you just—"

"Stop," she cut him off, "just stop. If you're so set on keeping her here, we'll see how long she lasts."

Always wanting to get the last word in, Ino spun away, back up the path and into the estate. The screen shut behind her with an angry snap, and Naruto grit his teeth in anger. Was no one going to give her any credit? Sakura had held her own against Sasuke just fine when they were in his office—she had even insulted him, something no one had ever done before.

They had housed many different people in this place over the years…members of the shogunate, daimyo, important officers, and even American ambassadors, much to their chagrin. None of them had ever addressed Sasuke as anything but Uchiha-sama, always speaking with the utmost respect and delicacy, as if afraid that saying something to displease him would mean the end of their life. Every guest had tread lightly, always with such a professional tone and a stick shoved high up their ass.

It had quickly become apparent to Naruto, however, that Haruno Sakura would be anything but a typical guest.

Feeling someone's stare, the blonde quirked his head back to find the guard fully turned to watch him.

"The hell are you looking at?" he snapped. The man jumped, turning himself back towards the empty road, back stiff.

With Ino's mouth and servants like these, it was a wonder they managed to keep any secrets around here.

Naruto sighed again, agitatedly scratching the back of his neck as he strolled back into the main room after Ino. He stared up the steps that led to the guest quarters for a long while before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.

Silently, he hoped Sakura would prove all of them wrong.

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Ino marched straight down the left hallway and into the bustling kitchens, trudging over to the small table in the corner and plopping herself down on one of the many cushions spread around it.

Pressing her forehead against the hard wooden surface and squeezing her eyes shut, Ino marveled at Naruto's idiocy.

She had never supported Sasuke's decision to hire a tutor—let alone ship one overseas—but the fact that the teacher was to be a _woman_…the idea was simply ludicrous. Sasuke had never liked Westerners, and he had never liked women (facts that Ino knew so well it stung); to combine the two would only bring disaster…they would have to spend time finding another tutor, and meanwhile this Sakura girl would be sent home with her tail between her legs.

Naruto simply couldn't see that, beneath all her supposed toughness, Sakura was just a woman.

And it was a commonly known fact that women got their hearts broken by Uchiha Sasuke.

There was a dull, hollow _thump_ near her temple, and Ino snapped her head up in time to see a pair of pudgy hands setting a steaming bowl of _dangojiru_ and a bottle of sake before her, along with two small cups. Following the retreating hands up the equally pudgy arms of their owners, Ino scoffed and leaned on her left elbow, raising her eyebrows as the rather plump boy took a seat across from her and poured the sake.

He offered her the tiny cup, but remained silent. Growing impatient, Ino tossed back the alcohol with an ease you only get from practice and pushed the cup back towards the bottle, silently demanding a refill.

"Shouldn't you be preparing the meal, Chouji?" she asked, tone clipped and sharp.

"Shouldn't you be fetching the guest, Ino?" he returned, smiling. "Cooking for two people doesn't take _that_ long."

"I sent Hinata," Ino replied after a moment, taking the bottle of sake from Chouji's hand as he began to pour her another cup and taking a swig from its mouth. She shoved the bowl of hot soup back at him, and the boy frowned at her, small eyes concerned.

"Are you dieting again?" he asked. "It's really not healthy."

Ino growled at him, taking another drink.

"Are you saying I need to?"

She held his honest gaze with her smoldering one for another minute before sighing, attempting to let go of her irritation. It really wasn't fair for her to take this out on someone like Chouji…he was about as sincere as they came.

"No, I'm not," she said tightly, sipping from the pristine white bottle. Sake always loosened her up.

The boy nodded, snapping the chopsticks he had brought for her and dipping into the soup himself. Chouji had never been one to waste good food…especially when he had been the one to make it.

Silence surrounded them, and slowly Ino relaxed, giving in to the warm feeling of sake spreading through her system. So what if the girl couldn't put up with Sasuke yet? She would toughen her up before she got herself hurt—it was the least she could do. Ino knew from experience just how much his rejection stung, even if it had been stupid and pointless for her to pursue him anyway.

Besides, it might be nice to have another woman around to chat with. Hinata didn't talk much, and sometimes she got rather bored with the same old conversations.

She sighed, taking another long drink from the bottle of sake in her hand.

Speaking of Hinata…shouldn't she be down by now?

Ino's eyes widened.

"Shit."

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A pregnant silence filled the room as Sakura stared, wide-eyed with shock, at the pale, unseeing eyes of the woman across from her.

Of all the things she had expected, this had certainly not been one of them; Naruto had made it seem as though the girl was only frail, not as though she had a serious handicap. The whole idea of her family disowning her because they believed her blindness was dishonorable…it was simply preposterous. What kind of people were they, to kick out a helpless invalid?

The Hyuuga, Sakura decided, were an impossibly cruel set of people.

"M-my apologies, Sakura-san," murmured Hinata quietly after what felt like a decade, bowing her head once more before dropping into a bow, shielding her face with her long, dark hair. "I d-didn't mean to frighten y-you. I-I'll just—"

Hinata stopped speaking abruptly, unable to continue. She rose clumsily, moving too fast to keep up her usual (and rather uncanny) grace.

Sakura felt a pang of sadness and overwhelming guilt as she watched Hinata struggle to leave before she broke down. Before she was even aware of her decision, her body was across the room and her hand was holding the brunette's wrist gently, keeping her in place.

"Hinata—wait," she said softly.

How many times had she been in this place? They called her terrible names at school, on account of her wide forehead, pink hair and Asian features. The criticism couldn't possibly be as bad as what Hinata had gotten, but Sakura knew how it felt all the same. The mean ones stripped you bare, but the nice ones were always quick to coddle.

Sakura had never liked the insults; but she had always hated being babied so much more.

"I was just startled," she continued, pulling the small girl back into the room easily. Hinata's head remained down, white eyes shut while her hair acted as a curtain. Sakura let go of her wrist, gathering the dark strands together and pushing them back over her shoulder.

She smiled softly…Hinata was a very pretty girl.

"I was actually hoping that you would help me change before dinner," the pink-haired woman said softly.

Sakura knew what it was like to feel useless.

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Ino tiptoed up the stairs, mentally preparing herself to curse that despicable woman all the way home. If she was laughing at Hinata, or insulting her, or making her cry, the blonde swore that she would shove that stupid American dress so high—

Ino halted abruptly, one foot on the final step; her violent train of thought came to a screeching stop.

There were voices. And_ laughter_.

It wasn't the maniacal laughter of a pink-haired Western woman relentlessly torturing a blind Japanese girl at all, but a soft, musical giggle. Ino knew that a laugh like that couldn't come from a girl like Sakura, which could mean only one thing:

Hinata was _laughing_.

Anger forgotten on the stairs below, Ino peered curiously through the cracked shoji screen, eyes widening at the sight before her. Sakura was now wearing a simple, deep red dress that hung loosely around her hips—not the obtrusive mushroom from earlier—and Hinata was apparently trying to lace up the back of the garment, but of course she had never done this before. Ino barely knew how to do it herself, she had lived in Japan for so long, and definitely couldn't do it without sight. Sakura, though, had her hands behind her back, guiding Hinata's fingers through the motions. She was numbering each separate action in Japanese with an absurdly exaggerated tone, smiling as Hinata started to do better on her own.

Hinata had never laughed like that for anyone but Naruto, and occasionally Kiba, when he came around.

Ino frowned slightly, not exactly liking this new development. Sure, she had said she would help toughen the girl up. But that didn't mean that she welcomed the idea of 

her any more than she had in the beginning, and it certainly didn't mean that she appreciated the fact that Sakura was befriending their fragile little Hinata.

Setting her face into an expression of oh-so-casual distaste, Ino pushed the screen open without knocking, causing both girls to jump.

"Sakura-san," she began, voice sickly sweet. The rosette-haired woman narrowed her eyes and dropped her hands to her sides, neck stiff. "Uchiha-san is waiting for you in the dining room."

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The first Western woman Sasuke had ever met had been Ino.

They had been very small children, at the time—her parents had practically sold their daughter to his, promising that she would be a very loyal and hardworking servant as they quickly scurried off towards the next boat back to America with their recently acquired money. The strange girl with pale hair and blue eyes had been sobbing most unattractively—all manner of snot and tears cutting through the dirt on her face as she cried out in words he couldn't understand. The keening little Western girl, abandoned and confused, had promptly thrown herself at Sasuke's feet and sworn her fealty not to his father, but to him.

Sasuke had been mortified.

His father had been dreadfully amused.

It was his brother, Itachi, who suggested she become Sasuke's personal maid. His mother had joked that maybe they would fall in love and put an end to the animosity between Americans and the Japanese.

Little Sasuke's mortification had doubled, of course. How could his mother suggest that love could ever exist between he, an almost Great Lord, and this monster-like Western peasant? It was cruel, to mock him that way.

Of course, love did come to exist between them, though not in the way his mother had meant when she had jested. Ino's devotion was one-sided and pointless—her pursuit of him had been bound to fail from the very start. He had never encouraged her, so her persistence was beyond him; were Western women always this forward and abrasive?

When her attempts to woo him had gotten rather more serious than he liked, he stopped playing nice and sent her to work for the Nara clan in the northernmost section of Konoha, just outside of Edo. She came back into his service the following summer for rather mysterious reasons, with far better Japanese and a far worse temper. It would seem that even Lord Shikamaru, the ever-patient strategist, could not handle Ino for more than a year or so.

After Ino's return, thousands of Westerners had begun to flood into Japan. The face of an American woman was no longer unusual, just as it was no longer unusual to see Westerners working for the Japanese, and vice versa.

It was, however, highly unusual for someone of Sasuke's status to be sitting down to dine with a guest of Western parentage.

Sighing softly, Sasuke contemplated the many dishes that had been placed before him and the empty space to his right, wondering at the strict tradition of it all. He had not had to sit down for one of these horrendously pointless and formal dinners for a very long time—his estate had not welcomed any formal guests in at least a year. Now that he had a moment to think it over, he honestly didn't see the reason for anything of the sort. He had 

already met the girl—hell, he had _hired_ her. One should hope he knew her purposes for residing in his household.

Samurai were a fiercely traditional set of beings, and (not for the first time) Sasuke cursed them for it.

Straightening his shoulders at the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked up politely as the screen was pulled aside.

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Sakura was let into the dining hall by a considerably more cheerful Hinata, murmuring a quiet greeting as she bowed to her new employer. After a moment of indecision, she sat down gently to Sasuke's right, the only other place at the long dining table that had been set. Candles were lit all along the surface, making the setting seem considerably more romantic than Sakura would have liked.

Shifting uncomfortably in the silence, she gingerly took up her chopsticks as Sasuke began to eat, her back stiffening unconsciously in the awkward atmosphere. Glancing over at the man on her left, she noted that he seemed entirely at ease, eating his meal in silence as though she weren't even there. The idea that he would ignore her and the discomfort she _knew _he sensed she was feeling set off a prickling of anger that she quickly bit back down.

It simply wouldn't do to offend him twice in the same day—it was a miracle she hadn't been sent packing yet.

Inwardly, Sakura took a deep, steadying breath and steeled herself to endure. Taking another bite of rice, she surrendered to the silence.

**

* * *

**

So this is a few days later than I intended, but hey.

**Uhhhh, I don't like this chapter very much because it's very transitional and I have never liked writing transitional chapters, so I kind of struggled and flopped my way through this one, haha. SORRY FOR ITS BAD-NESS. I really appreciate all the support and love I got for the first chapter of this, and I hope I continue to get moar support and love because that means I'm doing my job, right? Lolz.**

THINGS I WOULD LIKE TO CLARIFY  
**Yes, I realize that Hinata is not really blind. Bear with me, my children, bear with me.  
There may be some side pairings, yes. One is planned, and more might just kind of happen. I don't know quite yet.  
AGES will be mentioned soon. Patience.  
Tutoring will start in the next chapter. CALM DOWN.  
STOP ASKING ABOUT THE SINISTER PLOT. IT WILL COME, I PROMISE, THAT'S WHY IT IS IN THE SUMMARY. Ahahaha.**

**Reviews? Yes, please. :D**

**-Dani**


	3. Chapter 3

**Solstice, Chapter Three**

_sol - stice (sohl-stis) n.  
2. a furthest or culminating point; a turning point._

* * *

Sakura stared out the window of her chambers and into the vast, moonlit garden that spread beneath it, marveling at its exquisite beauty. Back home, they had little more than a patch of soil for vegetables—sprawling yards like this, filled with flowers and greenery, were virtually nonexistent in America. Nothing like it would be planted on the whim of a man like Uchiha Sasuke, she was sure—he was far too young and far too serious to have been responsible for the growth of such magnificent greenery. But if he, the master of the house, hadn't tended to (or at least planned) the garden, then who had? Certainly not Naruto, and definitely not Hinata. Ino? Sakura honestly didn't think Sasuke would allow her to.

Sakura frowned. A woman was responsible for it, she was sure; she was also sure, however, that there were no women residing in the house aside from Hinata, Ino, and herself. So, logically, whatever woman that was responsible was either dead or was no longer living at the estate. Was it a mistress or wife? That would certainly explain not only the garden, but the dark-haired samurai's melancholy seriousness, as well.

Sighing, the pink-haired woman closed her eyes as a gentle breeze drifted by.

Tomorrow, she would ask Hinata about the garden—at the moment, sleep sounded like a marvelous idea.

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Though he was at his desk with a blank scroll spread before him and a brush in hand, he had yet to trace even a single character onto the paper.

Uchiha Sasuke was hailed amongst his fellow (former, he reminded himself) Great Lords as a hero for all those against the Westernization of Japan. Rebels far and wide admired his steadfast and quiet resistance, and yet here he was, hiring an English tutor so that he could better understand the people he stood so thoroughly against. Not only was a Westerner to reside in his household, but said American was also a woman. What would the remaining samurai say? Paltry rumors would surface, of that he was sure…his enemies would not pass up the opportunity to trash his reputation, and there was bound to be some bloodshed over the matter—followers of bushido were notoriously petty.

It wasn't that Sasuke hated the Westerners—at twenty-three, he was old enough to realize that nothing remained forever. The abolition of the shogunate, for instance, was something he could understand—the Tokugawa clan was a set of supremists who cared nothing for those below them so long as they were in complete control; with a rule like that, there were bound to be revolts and protests and all sorts of useless arguments that led to nothing.

No, it wasn't the Americans that bothered him so much as the organization helping them from the inside with threats, deceit and murder—an organization to which his traitorous brother belonged.

They called themselves the Akatsuki, and while publicly they sought the peaceful Westernization of Japan, their means of obtaining it privately were anything but placid.

Akatsuki consisted of a set of shady and rather infamous people that everyone spoke of and no one knew anything about. They operated in secret, using whatever means necessary to reach their end—what that end was, Sasuke had yet to discover.

Four months ago, a monstrosity of a building had been unveiled in Amegakure, located on the far east shore of Japan's smallest island, Shikoku. If the building's sudden appearance, secretive plans, and its workers tendency to fall from great heights to their deaths during construction was not enough to arouse suspicion, then certainly the nature of the structure itself would.

The building was purely industrial, and unlike anything Japan had seen before. The graceful arches and elaborate architecture the Japanese so favored were absent, replaced by hard, stark lines and almost obtrusively dark colors. Impish gargoyles and statues hung around its many faces, pipes winding around most of its exterior; smoke poured from the building's many chimneys nonstop—black, angry smoke that stank of iniquity. It was a common assumption that this building in Ame was the headquarters of the Akatsuki, but there wasn't a single witness that had ever seen anyone enter or leave it.

Either the fortress had not been built for Akatsuki's purposes, or they were doing a splendid job of keeping those around it quiet.

Despite the rumors and murky water surrounding the organization and the building believed to be their place of rendezvous, Sasuke knew two things with absolute certainty:

He was going to find out what Akatsuki's true motives were, and he was going to take his brother's life.

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Dawn saw Naruto on a raised training platform in the inner courtyard of the Uchiha estate, wearing nothing but pant-like _hakama_ and a sheen of sweat. Panting softly, he hefted the _naginata_ spear in tanned, weapon-calloused hands once more and let his muscles carry him through motions he had known since childhood. He had been out here every morning since he had first come into service for Sasuke' family—the blonde could still remember when the weapon had been large and clumsy in his hands, when he had been forced to quit practicing because his arms simply couldn't hold its weight any longer; but never once had he wavered—Naruto was nothing if not disciplined.

Letting his body do the work for him, the blonde allowed his mind to wander.

Ever since the Akatsuki had first emerged, Sasuke had become more reclusive than ever before. His time was either spent in his office, where he pored over documents he had read and reread many times before, or on the porch before the garden, where he would stand for hours on end, looking without seeing. The man had never been very socially inclined…but Sasuke's solitary ways were now bordering on ridiculous. He barely slept, and last night's meal had probably been the first proper one Sasuke had consumed in weeks.

A soft smile alighted Naruto's lips—at least with Sakura around, he would have to eat semi-regularly. It was considered painfully rude to allow your guests to dine alone or with the servants, and someone of Sasuke's standing simply could not afford to be perceived as rude, not even by a foreigner like the woman now residing in their house. As a matter of fact, it was especially important not to seem ill-mannered to a Westerner, these days—Americans loved to exaggerate more than drunken samurai, and the government these days always favored foreign faces.

Last week, talk of a new advisor settling in with the Emperor had arisen; since then, new posters had been pasted all across Japan, exhibiting new laws and restrictions. Government officials made speeches, deeming the decisions crucial to a Westernized Japan—and Naruto agreed, they were crucial.

Crucial to a Japan where Americans were in complete control.

"E-excuse me, N-Naruto-kun…"

Naruto's rather grim expression neatly dissolved at the voice, leaving a smile in its wake as he turned to observe the girl nervously bowing at the bottom of the steps leading to his platform—he hadn't even heard her open the screen leading outside.

Her quiet movement never failed to surprise him.

"I-I brought some t-tea," stuttered Hinata, straightening from her bow but keeping her head down, back stiff, "b-but y-you don't ha-have—I j-just th-thought—"

"Hinata-chan," he interrupted, grinning, before she could stutter herself mute, "you know I never turn down your tea—it's the best!" She remained silent, but picked up the tray beside her as she felt her way up the steps with astounding grace, cheeks burning. Had he just complimented her?

Tossing his weapon to the side, the blonde sat towards the middle of his training area, making sure his knees touched the ground a little louder than strictly necessary. Hinata easily set the tray down before him and began to pour the tea, steam curling and golden in the morning light as it rose between them. His fingers brushed hers as she passed a cup to him, and Naruto's brow furrowed as her cheeks reddened almost immediately.

"Hina," he said, voice softening; the unconscious shortening of her name caused the brunette's cheeks to darken further. He leaned closer, inspecting the flush across her face and wondering why he hadn't noticed sooner.

"Your face is kinda red—are you sick?"

Hinata proceeded to choke on her tea.

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The screen that lead into the dining room had been pushed open to permit the cool breeze entry, making his task remarkably simple. The girl was sitting daintily on the floor, her seafoam skirts spread around her in some semblance of a budding flower, green and shimmering. Her back was to him, and he was silently grateful for her blind trust of the building's security—it would, at the very least, give him a moment to observe.

The arm lifting her morning teacup harbored the sun-kissed skin of a girl who spent far more time outdoors than was appropriate for a young woman of her age, though the straight line of her back implied masterful amounts of self-discipline. Her movements as she went about eating breakfast were gentle but purposeful—he could see from the way she grasped her chopsticks that she had a grip that belied her petite frame. She had bundled her long pink hair into a messy bun this morning, wisps of rose escaping to frame her face and brush her nape.

From what he could see, Haruno Sakura was just another typical Western woman, Japanese father or no. Why Sasuke had chosen to keep her here, he hadn't a clue—but it wasn't his job to find out.

He had originally come to speak with Naruto—but at the time of his arrival the blonde had been busy entertaining the Hyuuga's black sheep. Whether the girl was blind or not, interrupting would have exposed his presence here to Hinata, and for that his boss would have his head. He was on tense enough terms with Sasuke's retainers as it was—including any more than strictly necessary in the scheme would be detrimental to the entire plan.

He had, however, ensured that the blonde idiot had seen him before taking a cursory walk around the estate's attached walkway—Naruto had a track record of forgetting his appointments, and, needless to say, it was becoming a bit of a bother. The blonde hadn't appeared very happy to see him here—though he couldn't imagine why. He had made his plans clear from the very start, and whether they succeeded or not, Naruto would barely be affected.

Be that as it may, on this particular morning there had been an astounding rarity waiting for him around the second corner: an open screen, leading straight to Uchiha's new _flower_. There had been rumors swirling around Edo since yesterday concerning this girl and her arrival here. When there had been no return carriage that brought her back to the station this morning, the people had gone wild—a Western woman, straight from America, to stay in Uchiha Sasuke's house! It was laughable, that a man with so much power would allow his reputation to be trashed for the sake of an English tutor. Wasn't he supposed to be working against the Americans, anyway?

He simply couldn't help the smile that cut across his features—it was an unnatural grin, sharp and unfeeling.

Perhaps Sasuke was more similar to his brother than he would like to think.

The girl in front of him shifted her weight slightly, returning his attention to the situation at hand. Detachedly, he wondered if she knew just how much trouble she was bound to cause for Sasuke during her stay. The simple fact that she had spent the night here was causing an uproar the likes of which Edo had never seen—everyone wanted to see her, wanted to know what her purpose was. She had taken them all by storm with her pink hair and strange, new-wave Western clothes, and he sincerely doubted that Edo's attention would be diverted any time soon. She would have to be extremely careful…but Sasuke would have to be damn-near perfect in the days to come—the inhabitants of Edo and the surrounding area would be dying for any minor slip to pick at.

Wrinkling his nose slightly as he gave the woman a final once-over, he decided that, for now, Haruno Sakura could keep her privacy. Stepping away from the screen and continuing his journey around the estate's perimeter, he once again allowed that strange grin to stretch across his lips.

It really was a shame the girl hadn't been more noteworthy…despite his age, Danzo certainly loved every new piece of gossip he could get a hold on.

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Taking a long drink of the lukewarm tea before him, Sasuke sat back and mulled over the contents of his latest letter.

Since the arrival of the Americans in Japan (and thus the emergence of the Akatsuki), Sasuke had seen the occurrence of three key developments. The first was that his rank and title had been all but revoked, leaving each of the former Great Lords with little more than a flimsy sense of leadership obtained through scaring their retainers rather than gaining their respect. Though technically his men were still his, through both loyalty and lack of a better place to be, they were no longer completely under his control—they could choose whether or not to listen to his orders based on how firmly they were tied to him. Honor meant little these days, and the meaning of the samurai, Sasuke knew, was very quickly to be lost. As soon as enough of them realized that there was more monetary gain in it for them down the path of betrayal than loyalty, the name might as well be abolished alongside his position.

The second event was the unfortunate flooding of Japanese trade with American goods. Values of native wares plummeted to all-time lows as the prices for new, exotic American goods skyrocketed. As a result, the farmers and artisans of Japan suffered for the foolish decisions of their own people. Without the threat of the Great Lords looming overhead, a massive black market formed that sold Americans and Japanese alike the worst quality materials for prices only slightly cheaper than those offered to the remainder of the public. There were rumors all across the country that the Akatsuki were the ones behind the financing of the market itself, though no one had found anything concrete that could tie them to the illegal sales.

The third and final happening hit somewhat closer to home for Sasuke; the day after Akatsuki's supposed headquarters had been completely revealed, a letter with an unfamiliar seal had been waiting for him on his desk. Inside was tiny but efficient writing that explained to him that the anonymous writer, based somewhere in Oto, wanted a meeting with him in order to discuss a form of business which, at that point in time, was better off excluded from their correspondence. It finished by asking him rather politely to set a date and pick a location for their immediate assembly.

Sasuke had finished the letter, filed the information neatly away, and promptly discarded it. Oto had nothing to offer him but rice paddies and poppy fields—they had no militia to speak of, and their last Lord had died some time ago without naming a legitimate heir. The province was poor, empty, and completely unworthy of his attentions.

Since the first letter, the anonymous author had written to him at least once a week. The Uchiha had only responded once, and it was to tell whomever it was that he couldn't possibly take them seriously without some form of identity being given.

The next letter he received was, needless to say, considerably fatter than all of its brethren.

The writer called himself Orochimaru, but gave no family name. He had then explained thoroughly that he had known Itachi quite well, and was very much interested in helping Sasuke to finally force his brother to repent for his heinous crimes. There was a little correspondence following this document, after which Sasuke continued to ignore the remaining letters: one every week.

This time, however…the man claimed he had information which he would only give to Sasuke if he agreed to a deal, the details of which would be discussed as soon as the young samurai agreed to a meeting.

Setting his now empty teacup back on its tray, Sasuke frowned down at the letter's signature.

"Orochimaru…"

Information—and on Itachi, no less. Despite his pride, Sasuke knew that information about his brother was one thing of which he had precious little. It was nearly impossible to gain that kind of knowledge himself, and even Naruto could only get so much. His vast supply of contacts had been unable to supply him with anything but cheap gossip, and even their retainers had returned empty-handed.

Sasuke detested reliance. But even more so than that, he hated waiting.

Brushing the slightly crumpled letter to the side, he pulled a clean scroll closer and began carefully brushing out his response.

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"Hinata…"

The girl in question paused in her setting of the tea-tray, subconsciously pivoting her body in the general direction of Sakura's voice; it had drifted towards her in that close-yet-far way that Hinata took to mean she was leaning out the window. "Y-yes, Sakura-san?" she responded quietly, feeling her way around the tray for the small porcelain teapot—she could have sworn she put it on the left top corner, not left middle…

"Do you know who planted this garden?"

Sakura turned to see Hinata pause again, biting her lip. She seemed to debate for a minute before continuing to pour the tea.

"I t-think it was U-Uchiha-sama's mo-mother," she stammered, clenching her hands in the front of her robes. Sakura knew enough about Hinata to realize that when she stuttered more than usual, it meant she was about to flee. Thinking quickly, she stepped quietly over to where the tray was sitting, kneeling down across from the brunette.

"Thanks for the tea, Hinata-chan," she said, smiling.

The girl visibly relaxed, obviously not wanting to discuss the garden or Sasuke's mother; she bowed deeply. "It w-was my pleasure, S-Sakura-san," she murmured, beginning to rise.

"Hinata-chan," Sakura interjected suddenly. This girl was her only link to any information about her new employer, and she couldn't just let her walk out after wondering all morning long about the garden and its mysteriously quiet and empty estate. "Could you…stay a while? I've just been rather lonely."

Hinata lowered herself back down with a little hesitation, smiling uncertainly.

"O-of course."

Sakura took a small sip of tea, casually observing the young woman across from her. She was already doing better, no longer hiding her face in Sakura's presence or attempting to scurry away after squeaking a nearly inaudible message from behind a doorway. Gently setting her cup back on the tray, Sakura watched the steam curl above it for a moment before returning her attention to the brunette.

"Hinata," she said softly, "what happened to Uchiha-san's family?"

The reaction was immediate.

The girl before her went very stiff, pale face flushing pink—her hands came up before her and she pressed her pointer fingers together in what Sakura had come to recognize as one of Hinata's many nervous habits.

"S-Sakura-san, I d-don't mean a-any d-dis-disrespect, b-but—"

"Hinata," Sakura interrupted, "I can't ask anyone else—and how am I supposed to teach someone I know nothing about?"

"I-I'm s-sorry, but—"

"Hinata…please."

Sakura reached out and took one of the girl's hands in her own, pleading with her to understand. She didn't want to cause Sasuke any harm—she just wanted to understand him a little better. No one, not even him, was ever that cold, that dismissive of the emotions of others without some reason behind it. People naturally gravitated towards the comfort and friendship other people provided; for him to so blatantly ignore this inherent trait meant that there had to have been some kind of trigger for his distrust.

For the next year she would be spending almost every day with him. How could she be expected to get along with him if she knew nothing past his name?

"Please," she implored. "Whatever you decide to tell me won't leave my room."

The brunette closed her wasted eyes, firmly squeezing Sakura's hand in hers.

"T-the Uchiha Clan w-was the most p-prestigious family Honshu e-ever saw, m-more powerful th-than even m-mine…"

Sakura forgot about her tea as Hinata painted for her the story of Sasuke's family, letting it sit, untouched, as the tale played out. She listened as the brunette described the great family compound in Konoha, as she explained that they moved to this estate to provide a quieter life for the Clan's two heirs: Sasuke, and his brother, Itachi. She talked of Mikoto's love of gardening and Fugaku's love of Mikoto, of the strong brotherly bonds between Sasuke and Itachi and their father's blatant favoritism—and later, of Itachi's emotional distancing.

"Sasuke was e-eight when he c-came home late from s-school to find his entire family m-m-murdered."

Sakura sucked in a sharp breath.

"Murdered?" Hinata nodded gravely. "But who—and _why_?"

Sasuke's clan—Hinata had made them sound so wonderful and loving, an understanding set of people that were far ahead of the curve in intelligence and harbored new-wave ideas as to how their provinces should be governed. They were fair, just, and unbelievably accepting, taking Ino in as one of their own in a time when Americans were avoided at all costs.

The person who had taken it upon themselves to massacre the Uchiha Clan must have been either clinically insane or virtually heartless.

"Who?" came a new voice from the hallway. Sakura and Hinata both froze, the former snapping her attention to the open doorway as none other than Sasuke stepped into the light, jaw set and face calm. His eyes, however…as they locked onto hers, she could feel them boring right into her, sending a chill through her body and refusing to relinquish their hold. "Why don't you tell her, Hinata?"

If possible, the brunette grew more rigid still, twisting her hands in her lap and blushing most furiously, face pinched.

"I-I-I d-don't—y-you, I—"

"My brother, Haruno-san," murmured Sasuke, staring at her all the while. "He killed my family and left me alive."

Sakura's lips parted. His own brother? She wrenched her eyes away from his, staring resolutely down at the pale green liquid that was her now-cold tea. There was a short outtake of breath from Sasuke's general direction, a sound that Sakura, even in her conflicted state of mind, could recognize as a scoff.

"Perhaps," he began, tone deceptively light, "you should spend less time discussing your employer and more time doing your actual _job_."

The roseate-haired woman flushed, but remained silent. What could she say? He was right, but being caught—and by the very object of their discussion, no less—was absolutely mortifying. She wanted to shout that it wasn't Hinata's fault, to give him an explanation, anything—but nothing came to her tongue but the bitter taste of guilt.

"I expect you in my office in fifteen minutes," he said. "Do not be late, Haruno-san."

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Sakura stood outside his office door exactly thirteen minutes later, trying in vain to calm her jumpy nerves.

In one hand she held her teaching satchel, filled with paper, a few children's reading books, several slightly rumpled copies of the English alphabet, quills, inkpots, detailed lesson plans, and two blank journals. The other was half raised, fingers curled slightly and hovering just above the frame of the screen, prepared to knock but unable to do so. This had been the second time she had done something that so blatantly displeased him. It was a miracle he hadn't fired her on the spot the first time, and seeing as this was her second offense…

The man must _really_ want to learn English, for she could find no worthy reason for him to keep her here. Tapping lightly on the screen, she bit her lip in anticipation.

"Enter."

She obeyed, shutting the screen quietly behind her and stepping forward, bowing slightly. He was skimming over a letter in the light from the open doors behind him, but set it aside as she came in.

"Sit."

Again, she obeyed, too nervous even to be put off by his one-word responses and commands. For a moment she remained still, staring at the tabletop as she twisted the straps of her leather bag; she took a long, deep breath before finally meeting his eyes. He looked back at her evenly, posture perfect but gaze somewhat detached. He seemed almost _bored _already, as if he wasn't going to take her seriously.

Setting her jaw, Sakura pulled her supplies out of her bag.

"I thought that maybe we could start with the alphabet, and work our way forward from there…"

And Sakura began doing what came natural to her: teaching. She had been the one to teach her father English when he had first come to America to live with them after her mother had insisted that she was too old to remember anything from school. Sakura took on the task with gusto, coming home and imparting to him what she had learned in class every day, tutoring him in reading and writing the language so he could finally stay home with them for good.

Watching Sasuke as he copied down the unfamiliar letters and the sounds they made into the blank notebook she had given him, she was suddenly reminded of the first time she ever taught her father. Smiling nostalgically, she remembered how he had struggled through the first weeks and the way he used to jokingly try and cheat from her workbooks. It hadn't even been a week, but she already missed him terribly.

Coming back to the present, she frowned at the cold, serious man before her as he methodically copied, absorbed, continued. Her heart swelled with sympathy.

After all, he didn't even have a family to miss anymore.

Silence reigned for a few minutes as she continued to watch him before he glanced up, catching her eye.

"Pity," he began, returning his attention to his papers, "is a rather _pitiable_ emotion, in and of itself. Don't you think, Haruno-san?"

Her frown deepened. "I beg your pardon?"

He paused briefly in his writing, looking at her in that direct way of his.

"Sympathy and remorse have no function save to weaken," he stated. "As such, I hardly appreciate being their recipient."

She stared at him in disbelief as he once again continued with his assignment, shutting her out entirely. Sakura could understand him not wanting her to feel sorry for him—he was far too proud to ever knowingly allow anyone to do so. But for him to look at the emotion itself as a weakness was simply preposterous.

"And what do you think of other feelings, Uchiha-san? Are they as…as _useless_ as empathy?" He sighed lightly, and she could see his patience wearing thin by the tight line of his lips.

"Empathy is a façade—some people cannot be understood so easily." He gave her a pointed look, at which she bristled.

"Everyone understands pain, Uchiha-san."

He slammed his brush down on the table, causing her to jump. Leveling her with a fixed stare, his next words were spoken like liquid steel.

"You," he said forcefully, "cannot possibly understand me, Haruno-san." He scoffed, leaning back. "You Americans picture yourselves on quite the superior pedestal, don't you? Why don't you get back to your job so that I may return to mine." Sakura nearly growled.

"That might prove difficult, seeing as you no longer have one."

The mood in the room shifted from slight discomfort to unrestrained tension. Sasuke rose with fluid grace, planting his hands firmly on his desk and leaning over her, eyes smoldering.

"I don't expect you to understand my country or my people, Haruno_-_san, let alone myself," he began, voice deathly quiet, "but I _do_ expect you to _stay in line_."

Sakura pushed herself up onto her knees, bringing their faces impossibly close.

"I'm not your dog, Uchiha-san," she murmured, green eyes searing into his black ones.

"No," he agreed, searching her face, "but_ I_ am _your_ employer, and as such you will listen to me."

"And I am your teacher," she added softly, leaning closer, "as such, I expect you to do your homework." Leaning back, she pushed a pile of papers across his desk and stood, walking past him and towards the open doors to the gardens. "I _do _hope you were paying attention in class, Uchiha-san."

And, with a furious swirl of skirts, she left him.

* * *

**It's been far too long, really...and I'm terribly sorry. I've had a lot on my plate lately, and creating an entire AU for the story to take place in has turned out to be far more complicated than I first anticipated. BUT IF YOU KNOW ME, then you know that I don't abandon stories, and this one is no exception. Despite the long waits that may ensue as a result of my hasty decision-making, I will finish this story! Haha. Thanks for your patience and all of the lovely reviews I recieved.**

Clarifications**:  
Not everyone in this story is American...uh, Sakura is half-and-half (and I'm not talking International Delight - well, technically...okay, bad example), and so is Naruto. Ino is completely American, and Sasuke and Hinata are completely Japanese. Hope that clears it up for you!  
And no, I'm not dead.**

**Reviews, criticism...I like it all, so don't be shy! :D**

**-Dani**


	4. Chapter 4

**Solstice, Chapter Four**

* * *

"…I don't _believe_ him! That _swine_! That self righteous bastard! That…that—!"

With a final snarl, Sakura reigned in her rampant tongue—it simply wouldn't do to give him the satisfaction of being so thoroughly upset with him. After all, it had probably been his intention, a well-thought-out plot to remove the pink-haired woman he so detested from his home.

Sakura had half a mind to resign to it, to let him send her back to America and find a new tutor (a vision of manliness, no doubt) to replace her. After all, what was the sense in staying if her employer hated her and his primary housemaid was out to make her life as miserable as humanly possible? Aside from Naruto, who she rarely saw, and Hinata, who was likely so shaken by their last conversation that she would never speak to her again, Sakura had no friends in this place—no friends in this entire _country_. The pay was barely enough to get her back home at the end of her year-long stay with some change, and Sakura knew that the pressure of working under such abrasive conditions would someday begin to affect her mind if she wasn't careful.

But from a very young age, Sakura's father had drilled into her head the idea that the humiliation of giving up was far worse than the shame of defeat. It was a Japanese notion to the core, and one that she had lived by her whole life. To give up that mantra now was to abandon her sensibilities entirely.

Straightening her shoulders and composing her features, Sakura quickened her pace with determination as she approached the next corner—

"I'll show _him_—oh!"

—only to stumble, rather gracelessly, into someone's arms.

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He had grown bored of waiting.

Naruto had failed to meet him in the usual place, and so he had instead begun to take another leisurely stroll around the estate in search of the busty blonde girl when he had stopped to overhear a most _interesting_ exchange between Uchiha and his new pink-haired tutor.

Smiling that same twisted smile, unnatural and sharp, he had listened to them argue—and when she had stormed off, he took the opportunity to wait for her. If things went awry and Danzo found out that he had purposefully shown himself to her, there would be trouble; but he had once read that all women were in need of constant comforting, and it would be rude not to offer it to her—especially when it appeared that Haruno Sakura was a little more noteworthy than he had originally suspected when he had first spotted her that morning.

When she quite literally fell into his arms, he had to restrain the devilish faux-smile that threatened to overcome his features, carefully composing them instead into what he felt was a passable amount of concern.

"E-excuse me," the woman stammered, giving him a quick bow as he helped to right her. "I'm terribly sorry, I wasn't—"

"No, no," he cut in, "the fault is entirely mine, I should have been paying more attention—are you all right?" He made sure to pitch his voice with just the right amount of worry, letting his hands linger on her shoulders as if to make sure she had her balance.

"I…yes, I'm fine," she said firmly, blushing rather indignantly as his fingers slid away from her skin. She had a temper he would have to be careful with, at least for the time being.

"My deepest apologies," he said, giving her the most formal bow possible while remaining on his feet. "I was on my way to report to Sasuke-sama and I was shamefully distracted. But I hope…I hope you will not mention this encounter to anyone? I'm one of the security regiment for the estate and I'm supposed to be neither seen nor heard, you understand…"

He watched as her wariness of him eased with his explanation, the tension in her back melting away as she readily accepted his alibi, though no one had ever informed her of any secret guards on duty. How naively trusting she was…it would certainly make her an easy target in the future, if her value went beyond a startling talent of being able to effortlessly antagonize Uchiha.

Not, he checked himself, that that ability would be rendered entirely useless.

"Of course," she said kindly, smiling sympathetically at him. "Your secret is safe with me."

He crafted his features carefully into his best attempt at a relieved smile, knowing that there was still some tension in it—smiles were always the most difficult, but hopefully she would only take the stiffness of his expression as some residual worry. Quickly, he recomposed his features, lamenting the complications that emotions brought into a conversation.

"Oh! How rude of me, I've forgotten to introduce myself," he said, face shifting yet again. He bowed deeply at the waist, looking forward to all the openings he knew she would give him in the future. "My name is Sai."

She bowed in return. "Haruno Sakura…I am Uchiha-sama's tutor."

He forced his eyes to widen a little as he straightened.

"Surely not!" he murmured, putting on his best surprised tone.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, though her smile stayed in place.

"Whatever do you mean?" she asked. He pushed down a sense of bewilderment at her syrupy tone. Had he said something wrong? Tilting his head to the side, he recalled being told once before that the easiest way to distract a woman was to compliment her.

"Only that…pardon my boldness, Sakura-san, but surely no one so beautiful could subject themselves to Sasuke-sama's ugly manners?"

Years of training allowed him to catch the fleeting surprise and rosy flush that danced across her face before she quickly covered it with a light laugh, one small hand reaching up to cover her mouth. He flashed her what he hoped was a passably charming smile. By the way her own fell slightly and her brows furrowed, he knew he hadn't done a very good job. He offered her a final bow, more a quick angling of his torso than anything, before preparing himself for departure.

"Please accept my apologies once again, Sakura-san—but I'm afraid I must excuse myself, I'm already late for my report."

She nodded, and bowed again in return.

"It was nice to meet you, Sai-san," she murmured.

He felt her eyes on his back as he walked away, and once again allowed that eerie un-smile to split across his face.

She didn't entirely believe him yet, but he was confident that he would be able to salvage what good had come from their conversation later. He would be the first to admit that he had been sloppy and unprepared to deal with someone like her, but Danzo would be pleased that he had made a somewhat successful contact with the girl that all of Edo was so fascinated with.

And next time, he would be ready.

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Sasuke waited until Ino had exited his office to put down the scroll he had been pretending to read, lacing his fingers in front of his chin and staring blankly ahead of him.

The blonde had informed him of the recent departure of Danzo's favorite dog, and he had no doubts that Naruto would be in soon to tell him something similar.

Despite the fact that he continually returned despite countless refusals, Sai wasn't an idiot. He had to know that both Naruto and Ino were reporting back to him in regards to his presence here…so why the secrecy? This had been going on for months now, and Sasuke had grown tired of the game a long time ago.

Obviously, Sai was working for Danzo, though he had yet to come outright and say it. And obviously, Danzo thought that whatever wrongs he had done to get himself removed from the Emperor's council years ago were far enough in the past to be little more than a vague remembrance. It was a stupid mistake, on his part—everyone that was alive to see him booted from the Emperor's house would always remember it. Most of them would always hate him for it, though no one really knew what, exactly, he had done.

However, the fact remained that Danzo had yet to make any direct moves of his own, choosing instead to hide behind a much overused pawn. That Sai was so well-known in this area brought up questions of its own: clearly, he was very good at whatever it was that he did, or else he would have never been used here. What his uses were, exactly, remained to be discovered—though perhaps that was the entire point.

Sasuke had seen Danzo many a time in the years before his family's massacre, had heard stories of his greatness as well as his unrelenting malice, and knew enough about the man to realize that he only ever kept his own nose out of the game when he thought that something potentially damning could be traced back to him. That meant that whatever he was up to, it was something big—and he needed Naruto and Ino to help him accomplish it.

Which brought up another puzzling matter: why Ino? Sasuke could understand the merits of having someone like Naruto on your side. He was a fearsome samurai, as good with his fists as he was with both sword and spear, and his determination (Sasuke was loath to admit) was something to be admired. But Ino? Ino was a finicky, loud and disdainful woman. Sasuke was aware that she had received some hand-to-hand combat training during her stay with Lord Shikamaru, but it was hardly enough to be called self defense, let alone useful. She was quick to anger, easily distracted, and increasingly vain. The only reason he even allowed her to keep on at the estate was because she had shown herself to be remarkably loyal to him, even after her banishment to the northernmost Nara forests.

Pushing himself to his feet, he began to pace up and down the length of the small room. There had to be a connection there that Sasuke was missing, aside from the obvious similarities in appearance—but surely—

Sasuke frowned in realization.

Danzo needed Americans.

More importantly, he needed people that would make Sasuke himself look like more of a mockery than he already did. Stripped of his title, without any family of his own, learning the language of the people who had so thoroughly devastated his country and with the whole of Edo swarming with the gossip that he had taken a Western woman as his mistress, it wouldn't take much to utterly destroy him—and Danzo was counting on that. He was counting on the idea that it would only be a matter of the right price, the right bribe.

There was a reason why Sai continued to refuse the two blondes any more details than the facts that their work would be simple, and would take place on the isle of Shikoku. Danzo wanted them kept in the dark, wanted their abandonment to be a surprise even to themselves—if he didn't have them killed first, that is.

While the idea of finally having one of his retainers so close to Amegakure was dreadfully appealing to Sasuke, he knew there was an ample risk involved. He had no idea how, exactly, Danzo planned on skewing their loyalties—or if he even intended to skew them at all. There had to be something deeper going on there.

The former councilman to the Emperor was far from stupid. He had to know that it was only a matter of time before Sasuke deciphered his plans and figured out a way to counter them.

And if he was planning on Sasuke intercepting his efforts, then what else did he have in store? There were levels here that he couldn't figure out on his own.

What he needed was information—on Danzo, on Sai and his organization—and he knew that there was only one reliable place for him to get it.

xxxxxxxx

Sakura stood, as she often did, leaning out the lone window in her room and staring idly down at the gardens.

From the way the sunlight directly behind her bathed the gardens below and the gently sloping hills beyond in fiery shades of orange and red, she knew it must be nearing sunset. That meant that Hinata would be bringing her evening tea soon, and then leading her down to dine with Sasuke. And…and what?

Sakura huffed, burying her face in her hands.

And for all she knew, she could have lost the job. Her father would be so disappointed.

Leaning away from the windowsill, Sakura turned to look at herself in the full-length mirror propped in the corner of her chambers. Her afternoon dress was wrinkled from all the sitting she had been doing (Western fashion was clearly not created for the low-lying tables and floor cushions of Japan), and her disheveled pink hair had long ago come undone from the sloppy bun she had pinned it in that morning. Her eyes harbored all the stress of her afternoon with Sasuke, the subsequent argument and her ensuing run-in with that strangely stiff man, Sai.

He had given her the strangest feeling—she couldn't quite pinpoint it, but something about his mannerisms and the way he smiled at her had seemed a little off, as if everything he did had the briefest of delays. And that last grin he had given her before excusing himself was downright…_predatory_.

There was a firmer-than-usual rapping at the shoji screen, and Sakura shook herself of all thoughts of him. She felt shamefully grateful that Hinata would not be able to see her like this.

"Come in," she called gently, hoping for a chance to apologize to the girl for any trouble she may have gotten into with Sasuke.

The screen slid open, and Sakura turned, apology at the tip of her tongue, when her mouth suddenly went very dry.

Ino gave a rigid bow before rising and setting the tea tray on the small table in Sakura's room, not bothering to apologize for the water that sloshed out of the small pot with her rough movements.

"Good evening, Sakura-_sama_," said the blonde as she turned to face the woman in question, hands clasped demurely before her. A slow, small smirk spread across her full lips as she appraised the pink-haired woman's rather wilted appearance. "Can I help you slip into something more…appropriate for tonight's dinner?"

Sakura's eyes hardened, hands clenching into fists at her sides. She was in no mood for this.

"Where's Hinata-chan?" she asked firmly.

Ino's smirk transformed into an almost wolfish grin.

"Uchiha-san has requested that I take over her duties," said the blonde, voice sweeter than any honey. "I suppose he thought I would be better prepared to meet your needs as a Westerner."

Sakura found her lips parting at the words—so she _had _gotten Hinata into trouble. Her heart sank into her stomach, a remarkable sadness resting there with it. Hinata had been her only real friend here aside from Naruto, but she hadn't seen much of the carefree blonde since that first day.

Turning to the small, cabinet-like closet beside her bed, Sakura picked the first gown she saw and threw it out across the sheets. It was a dusky lavender and hardly appropriate for a formal dinner with a Great Lord (former, she reminded herself sternly), but at the moment she really didn't care to impress him—or the busty blonde carefully watching her from narrowed eyes across the room. Turning her back to Ino, Sakura lifted her pink mane over her shoulder.

"If you could loosen the strings, I can do the rest," she murmured.

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Ino didn't move, just stared at the resigned creature in front of her as if the girl had sprouted a second head. What had happened to the feisty, no-holds-barred girl that Naruto had spoken so highly of?

Everyone knew, of course, about her earlier argument with Sasuke—it was impossible _not_ to know in a house divided only by screens and thin wooden walls—but had it really managed to shake her confidence so much? Damn it all, she had _told _that idiot Naruto that this would happen. And now she was going to have to clean this whole mess up herself.

Sighing roughly, Ino stepped up behind the pink-haired girl and began tugging at the strings of her corset.

"Oh, for kami's sake, Forehead, pull yourself together," she grumbled, successfully untying the rather elegant bow Hinata had managed to form and working her way up the laces.

"I beg your pardon?" Sakura asked, switching to English in her bewilderment and craning her neck to see the blonde behind her.

Ino met her with a flat stare. "I _said_: get your shit together."

Sakura balked, and Ino rolled her eyes, turning back to her work.

"Oh, don't act like you've never heard a bad word before…"

Silence filled the room once more as Ino loosened the criss-cross pattern enough for Sakura to slide the dress down over her hips. Left in her thin white slip, the pink-haired woman turned to fully face the taller girl opposite her, only to find her already gathering the second dress in her arms.

"You really should get some less absurd clothing, if you want him to take you seriously," said Ino, scrunching her nose in distaste as she rubbed the fabric between her fingers. "I might have some old things that don't fit anymore, but no promises."

Ino glanced up to find the other woman given her a bewildered stare.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Sakura asked, suspicion leaking into her tone. Ino hummed thoughtfully.

"Maybe I'm just bored, Forehead-girl," the blonde quipped, holding the dress out in front of her. "How does this work, anyway?"

From the way the other woman stared at her, Ino knew she wouldn't get off so easily. She sighed again.

"Look, Forehead—"

"My name is _Sakura_—"

"Whatever," Ino cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "Look, _Forehead,_ I don't want you to get it all mixed up: I'm not your friend. And I'm definitely not your servant, either. But sometimes, a girl needs more people to talk to than a stuttering mess and that blonde idiot. So humor me."

Sakura was torn between punching Ino across the face and hugging her, but she didn't think either was likely to gain her any ground in this area. Ino was…trying. And for that, she was more than grateful.

Ino listened as Sakura taught her how to slide the dress on and how to lace the corset properly, feeling an odd sense of accomplishment as she finally reached the bottom of the damn thing and tied the bow—considerably less elegant than Hinata's had been, but pretty nonetheless.

She watched as Sakura smoothed the fabric in the mirror before turning and offering Ino the best bow she could make in her present state—all right, so maybe she had tied it _little_ tight.

"Thank you, Ino."

The blonde scoffed, waving both her hands in front of her.

"Don't thank me—you still look absolutely ridiculous in that thing. I'm telling you, Forehead, you really need a new wardrobe."

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Sasuke slipped into the candlelit dining hall just as she was settling herself in her designated place, back straight, small hands folded stiffly in her lap. He sat to her left—at the head of the long table—without saying a word. Murmuring a quiet thanks over the meal, he began to eat, and out of the corner of his eye he watched her follow suit after a moment's hesitation.

He clearly made her uncomfortable, a notion that wasn't entirely new to him. He had lived the majority of his life in a relative solitude that was mostly self-imposed, and the comfort of others had never been one of his primary concerns. She had crossed a line this afternoon, and as far as he was concerned had effectively sealed her fate in the process. Naruto had bought her two weeks, and throughout their duration he would take her lessons and play host at these dinners. He had given his word, and so it was done.

But the moment those fourteen days were over with, she would be sent straight back to America. No second chances. No games.

She had wasted enough of his time already, and these days time was one thing of which Sasuke had precious little. If he had known she was a woman—a headstrong, insolent one, at that—he would have never offered her the job in the first place. Not only did it just seem…backwards, but she had no idea how much trouble she had caused simply by being here—both for him and for herself.

Japan was far different from her precious America. Strange, foreign (and, he would admit, passably attractive) women didn't just enter an elite house to take in the local scenery, or to serve as a tutor to someone like himself. To the people of Edo and the surrounding area, she had come to be taken as his mistress. Rumors were flying, his already damaged reputation had been tainted further, and all for naught. She wouldn't even remain for the full year that she had anticipated staying, for the full year that he had hoped to hire…_someone_ for.

Silence filled the room. He noted, dimly, that she had barely touched her food, and suddenly found himself without much of an appetite.

Setting his chopsticks to the side, Sasuke placed his hands flat on the table and began to push himself upright when she spoke.

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"I'm sorry, Uchiha-san," Sakura murmured hurriedly, soft voice breaking the quiet around them before she lost her nerve. His eyes were locked with hers, and she was startled by the intensity she found glimmering in their dark depths.

She cleared her throat lightly before continuing, "It was not my place to ask Hinata anything, nor was it appropriate for me to put my nose where it didn't belong."

He was searching her face for something that she hoped desperately he would find. Resisting the impulse to swallow under the weight of his stare, she noted, not for the first time, how remarkably handsome he was—but there was a hardness in his face and a carelessness to his demeanor which told her that Uchiha Sasuke was a man used to getting everything he wanted, to being obeyed without question.

It was a disagreeable trait, and one that Sakura was determined not to encourage.

"I'll expect you in my office at noon tomorrow."

Something in her bristled at the command, but she fought it down—she really couldn't afford to press her luck tonight.

"Yes, Uchiha-san," she agreed.

Satisfied, he rose, turning to leave.

Sakura tried to hold her tongue, she really did—but it was just so _hard_.

"But, Uchiha-san," she called after him, concerned. He paused, turning his head over his shoulder to look at her. "Are you certain that you'd like to meet so early? I seem to recall giving you an awful lot of homework to get through."

He turned abruptly and left her, though she hadn't missed the fleeting annoyance on his features as he slid the screen shut with more force than strictly necessary.

Humming softly to herself, Sakura returned happily to the now lukewarm food before her.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad here, after all.

* * *

**I feel so ridiculously bad about not updating for over a year, you have no idea. I've just had...a lot of things to get through, both with my family and on a more personal level. I hope this doesn't disappoint, and really want to thank all of you for waiting and giving me such nice reviews even though I hadn't added anything new for such a long time. Hopefully, everything will be back on track now and I'll be able to give updates more often than once a year, haha.**

**Leave me reviews, because they seriously keep me going when nothing else does. 3**

**Ciao,**  
**Dani **


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